| Bradford Pevere... 的个人资料Bradford Peverell. Nr Do...日志列表留言簿 |  工具  帮助 |
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Bradford Peverell. Nr Dorchester. Dorset. UK.Weblog. bradfordpeverell@msn.com Send in interesting information to this e-mail. The final take-off: WWII ace goes to his grave in a coffin shaped like a Hurricane fighter | the Daily MailSent: 10 June 2007 10:01
Subject: The final take-off: WWII ace goes to his grave in a coffin shaped like a Hurricane fighter | the Daily Mail A clip from RealPlayer - Factual ProgrammeWhat are we going to do with our Church? See, 9 mins 40 seconds into the programme !
http://switchboard.real.com/player/email.html?PV=6.0.12&&title=Factual%20Programme&link=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.bbc.co.uk%2Fradio%2Faod%2Fshows%2Frpms%2Fradio4%2Fstarttheweek.ram Note: This content may require the latest RealPlayer, which is not available on Windows 95, Mac OS9 or Linux systems. Welcome to St Paul's Cathedral - Concerts and eventsWhat are we going to do with our Church? 3月13日 Channel 4 - News - Dispatches - Charles: The Meddling PrinceThe Poundbury Estate !
Whats going on ? Where is all our money going ? Where are the (extra) facilities ?
http://www.channel4.com/news/articles/dispatches/charles+the+meddling+prince/282452
A Humanist Credo Where shall the human spirit turn
when ancient creeds are dead?
What shall our faith as fuel burn
when all our Faiths have fled?
We trust the human spirit still,
the tide that brought us here;
the sense of good, the human will,
to learn the way of care.
The way is hard and wrong is strong,
but we shall triumph yet,
as more will join the human song
to give, as much as get.
To seek the best in you and me,
to share and care for the earth,
to serve a new humanity
and bring world peace to birth.
Anonymous. 'The Seasons Of Life' ISBN 0-301-00001-8
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! The sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not; Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn, So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea, Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
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